There were some parts in the long letter which I wrote about laying out grounds, in which the expression must have been left imperfect.  I like splendid mansions in their proper places, and have no objection to large or even obtrusive houses in themselves.  My dislike is to that system of gardening which, because a house happens to be large or splendid, and stands at the head of a large domain, establishes it therefore as a principle that the house ought to dye all the surrounding country with a strength of colouring and to an extent proportionate to its own importance.  This system, I think, is founded in false taste, false feeling, and its effects disgusting in the highest degree.  The reason you mention as having induced you to build was worthy of you, and gave me the highest pleasure.  But I hope God will grant you and Lady Beaumont life to enjoy yourselves the fruit of your exertions for many years.

We have lately had much anxiety about Coleridge.  What can have become of him?  It must be upwards of three months since he landed at Trieste.  Has he returned to Malta think you, or what can have befallen him?  He has never since been heard of.

Lady Beaumont spoke of your having been ill of a cold; I hope you are better.  We have all here been more or less deranged in the same way.

We have to thank you for a present of game, which arrived in good time.

Never have a moment’s uneasiness about answering my letters.  We are all well at present, and unite in affectionate wishes to you and Lady Beaumont.  Believe me,

Your sincere friend,
W. WORDSWORTH.

I have thoughts of sending the Verses to a Newspaper.[30]

[30] Memoirs, vol. i. p.321 et seq., with important additions from the original.  By a curious inadvertence this letter is dated 1796—­quite plainly—­for 1806, as shown by the post-mark outside.  G.

* * * * *

OF HIS OWN POEMS AS FALSELY CRITICISED.

Letter to Lady Beaumont.

Coleorton, May 21. 1807.

MY DEAR LADY BEAUMONT,

Though I am to see you so soon, I cannot but write a word or two, to thank you for the interest you take in my poems, as evinced by your solicitude about their immediate reception.  I write partly to thank you for this, and to express the pleasure it has given me, and partly to remove any uneasiness from your mind which the disappointments you sometimes meet with, in this labour of love, may occasion.  I see that you have many battles to fight for me,—­more than, in the ardour and confidence of your pure and elevated mind, you had ever thought of being summoned to; but be assured that this opposition is nothing more than what I distinctly foresaw that you and my other friends would have to encounter.  I say this, not to give myself credit for an eye of prophecy, but to allay any vexatious thoughts on my account which this opposition may have produced in you.